Some Say
by mahc
Summary: JED-DONNA - Third story in the "As I Was Drifting Away" series. Excerpt: This is serious, isn't it?
1. Chapter One

Chronology of Stories in the "As I Was Drifting Away" Series:  
  
"As I Was Drifting Away" "In Your Eyes" "Some Say"  
  
Thanks for the great feedback. I'm really glad there are readers out there who are enjoying this.  
  
POV: Donna Spoilers: None Rating: PG Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
Some Say - Chapter One A West Wing Story  
  
by MAHC  
  
Donna Moss twirled a piece of hair around her finger, a gesture she thought she had abandoned as a teenager, but she felt like she was sixteen again as she listened meekly to her mother on the other end of the phone line. It was inevitable, she knew, that she tell her parents. Still, only in a fading moment of courage did she place the call. When her mother picked up, it was too late to turn back. Now the familiar tone of her childhood evoked both warmth and dread.  
  
"How are you, dear? Not working too hard?" Her mother always asked that. Every time.  
  
"I'm fine, Mom. Not working too hard." Well, this week, anyway. She gritted her teeth and drew in a stabilizing breath. "Listen, Mom. I - uh - I - called to tell you something."  
  
"You need money?"  
  
She smiled, despite her anxiety. If she said yes, there would be $300 waiting for her at the Western Union in twenty minutes. "No, Mom. I don't need money."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Yeah. It's just that - I - uh - I'm - seeing someone."  
  
The gasp of delight at the other end drew a smile to her face. Her mother was forever prodding her toward the altar. She pounced on each prospective son-in-law like Sylvester on Tweety Bird, regardless of Donna's interest in the guy.  
  
"Is it serious?" she asked, tone clearly hopeful.  
  
And the white rose breathes of love - "Yeah. It's - serious."  
  
"Does he have a good job? You don't want to have to support-"  
  
"It's a pretty good job, Mom."  
  
"Is he a politician? Because you know how unpredictable those jobs are. In and out at the whim of-"  
  
"He's a politician, Mom. But he's - fairly secure, at least for a while. And he has some good - possibilities for later."  
  
"These are things to think about, dear," she reminded, as though she had not reminded her at least a dozen times before. "Does he work on the Hill? You know, that must be so exciting to work for a congressman, someone so important."  
  
"Well, no, he doesn't work for a congressman - not exactly. He works - he works in the White House."  
  
"Oh." Her mother's voice grew low and soft. "Donna, are you telling me it's Josh Lyman?" Donna worked so closely with Josh that it was inevitable her parents heard about him often. Her mother had been less than subtle about suggesting a liaison.  
  
"No, Mom. It's not Josh Lyman."  
  
"He's cute."  
  
"It's not Josh."  
  
"I'm just asking because even though looks aren't everything-"  
  
"Mom, the - guy I'm seeing is nice-looking. And a good person, too, if you're interested."  
  
"Don't be cheeky, Donna." Only her mother used the word 'cheeky.' And maybe Sam Seaborn. "You know I feel that inner beauty is more important. I just want to make sure I have pretty grandchildren."  
  
"Aren't you a little premature?" she asked, then blushed at the sudden memory of intense blue eyes holding her gaze as hot release burned inside her. She swallowed the groan that pushed upward in her throat.  
  
"Dear," he mother was saying, "you're not getting any younger, you know."  
  
With effort, she pulled away from the physical sensation the memory had provoked. "He's very handsome, Mom. Very attractive." You've commented on that before, by the way - you just don't realize it.  
  
"Well - good. Like I said, looks aren't everything, but-"  
  
"I know."  
  
"What's his name?"  
  
His name? Oh hell. His name. Make it up. Joe. Jonah. Jared. Jim. She shook her head and took a deep breath. "Jed."  
  
"Jeff?"  
  
Say yes. "No, Mom. Jed." She emphasized the "d" at the end.  
  
For a long moment, she heard only silence at the other end. Then, her mother noted, "Like the President?"  
  
Her heart hammered. "Yes. Like the President."  
  
For another long moment there was more silence, but when the voice returned, it was light and cheerful. "Well - isn't that a coincidence. I mean, Jed is just not a very common name."  
  
"Yes," she agreed, "it is a coincidence." Coward. Tell her! "Well, not as much of a coincidence when you realize that-"  
  
But her confession was drowned out by a shrill exclamation. "Oh, dear! I'm sorry. I just checked the clock. I'm supposed to be at Marjorie Milsap's house for our Rook game in twenty minutes, and you know it takes all of that and more to get there. Listen, I'm just tickled about your new boyfriend, Jeff."  
  
"Jed."  
  
"Jed, right. Like the President. Give him a hug for me."  
  
The President or - "Okay."  
  
Now the voice grew pointedly serious. "Donna, make sure he's going to treat you right. I mean, don't take this wrong, sweetheart, but you don't have a very good track record for picking winners."  
  
Gee, thanks, Mom. "I think I've done pretty well this time."  
  
"Well, I certainly hope so, dear. You know your father and I just-"  
  
"Want the best for me. I know. Go play Rook now."  
  
"All right. I'll call you later in the week. Love you!"  
  
The line clicked dead, but Donna kept the phone to her ear until the flat tone began. Well, she had good intentions, but the timing just didn't quite work out. Still, she knew soon she would have to spill the news. She wanted her folks to hear it from her before they saw her picture on the front page of the National Enquirer in the Wal Mart check out line.  
  
"Donna!" Josh's voice had that strident quality that always bled through when a crisis was upon them and she must rescue him from catastrophe. With a longsuffering sigh, she shook her head and answered.  
  
"Yes, Jo-" But one look at his face convinced her she needed to pay close attention.  
  
"Have you heard this?" He asked, his voice halfway between a laugh and snarl, his hand over his forehead in amazement. "How absurd!" Grabbing her arm, he led her into the media area where the televisions all blared C.J.'s news conference. The press secretary was in the middle of an answer, and from the expression on her face, Donna figured the topic had taken her completely by surprise.  
  
" - have no idea where you obtained that strange information, Steve."  
  
What strange information?  
  
The tall reporter eased back in his chair, having already gained the floor. "My source is saying that the President is seeing someone and that someone possibly is a White House employee."  
  
Oh God! Oh God! Her eyes flew to C.J. to see how the press secretary would handle this.  
  
"Again, Steve," she stated evenly, "I can only emphasize that that's news to me."  
  
What? How smooth C.J. was. Of course she knew about this, had seen the President kissing Donna - and it wasn't just a friendly kiss - in the bullpen. Had backed away immediately and left them alone. She knew that Jed planned to discuss their relationship with C.J., to plot a course of action when it became public, and they knew it would become public. She just wished it had been a little later.  
  
"I will say, however," C.J. continued without a moment's hesitation, "that, due to tragic circumstances with which we are all familiar, the President is now an eligible bachelor. It has been over a year since the First Lady's death. If you want to know how many letters he receives from female admirers each day, I'll have my office tabulate. I can assure you, it's causing the mail room no small amount of stress." She smiled in the way that politely indicated she was not entertaining more questions and announced, "That's a full lid, guys and gals. Thanks."  
  
Donna's heart raced, pumped, careened. She tried to catch her breath, but only gulped in the air faster. Stepping from the room, she watched C.J. and Carol as they strode down the hall.  
  
"Where did that come from?" the tall dark assistant was asking, racing to keep up with her boss.  
  
C.J. didn't answer, but snapped, "Get me the numbers on those love letters for the President."  
  
As she breezed past Donna, she swore colorfully, flipping pages in her notes folder. With gritted teeth, Donna fell into step beside her.  
  
C.J. glanced up, then said, "My office," continuing her rapid pace toward that destination.  
  
"Okay," Donna returned and kept on before she lost her courage.  
  
They entered the press secretary's office and Donna closed the door behind her. Plopping her file on the desk, C.J. turned to face her. "Okay. This wasn't my business before, but I think it is now. I'm just gonna ask it straight out."  
  
Donna nodded, knowing what was coming.  
  
"Are you and - " She hesitated, as if she couldn't believe she was about to ask this. "Are you and - the President - " Stopped again, clicked her tongue, then plunged ahead. "Is there something going on between you two?"  
  
Well, there it was. She couldn't very well deny it. C.J. knew she had seen something. Probably guessed what she had seen was - well, what she had seen. How should she respond? How did the President want her to respond? Her mind flickered back to the conversation they had that night.  
  
Jed sat on the couch in the residence, hands clasped together, brow furrowed in thought. They had been through the scenario a half dozen times and couldn't get away from the bald fact that C.J. Cregg had caught them in an amorous embrace, and that she had to know what that meant. But she had left quickly, not giving either of them a chance to explain, or try to explain, although Donna didn't know what they could have said.  
  
His heavy sigh brought her gaze to his face and compassion swept over her at the frustration she saw there. He had just admitted his love for her, and he now must confront the consequences of his commitment. Rumors, accusations, embarrassingly concocted stories. His warnings to her echoed the very same possibilities, and she could see his mind peeling back the layers of invasion they would have to endure.  
  
They had returned to the residence after a few stunned moments in her office, talking out their next moves, speculating on what might happen next. Now they had to face the music that their love had composed. Still standing, she moved from her position near the fireplace to sit next to him, smiling when it only took a moment for his arm to slide around her and draw her close. Her head rested on his shoulder. Her arm eased around his waist and they sat like that in silence for a good twenty minutes. Eventually, though, he pulled back and faced her, his jaw clenching and unclenching before he spoke.  
  
"Donna, I'll talk with C.J. This won't stay under wraps for long. We'll need a - a plan to deal with questions."  
  
"Okay." She figured that. Trusted him to approach it however he felt was best.  
  
Now her took her hand and the gentleness in his eyes touched her deep inside. "What I said earlier - about how difficult this is going to be - "  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"It will be incredibly hard, Donna. I don't think even I can imagine how hard. So - " She saw him swallow, saw the pain sweep across his face and wondered what he was about to say that could be so hard. "So if you decide - if you feel you can't - I'll - understand if - "  
  
Now she knew, comprehended what he was trying, but unable, to tell her. He looked so miserable, but was forcing himself to say it, anyway.  
  
"I won't change my mind," she assured him softly, but firmly, running the backs of her fingers across his cheek. "I love you, Josiah Bartlet. I love you with my heart and my mind and my body and-"  
  
Despite the agony in his eyes, he managed a grin. "Don't I know it. Your body has just about killed me, but I can't think of a better way to go."  
  
Flushing, she smiled back, then grew serious again. "We can face this together, Jed. We can do this. Whatever happens."  
  
And she held his gaze with confidence, with love, with passion that was immediately contagious.  
  
"Oh, Donna," he whispered, his eyes shining. "Donna, I never thought I'd find someone again. Never thought I could love again after Abbey." She noted that he was able to say her name without his voice breaking now. His lips brushed against hers. "I don't know why you would-"  
  
"Shhh." She placed her fingers on his mouth to stop him. "I didn't think ego was a problem with you," she teased. "Surely you know how special you are. Surely you know how smart and how handsome and how - " She lowered her voice to a husky whisper. " - sexy you are."  
  
He grinned. "Well, as long as you think so - You suppose I could take advantage of your misconceptions?"  
  
She leaned in, placing her hand on his chest, and breathed, "Any time, Mister President. Any time."  
  
And he did.  
  
Now she looked back at C.J., her face flushed with the memory of that evening. Words were unnecessary once the press secretary got a good look at her expression.  
  
"Oh, my God," she muttered, echoing Margaret, but not as loudly. "I knew when I - saw you and - the - oh boy - the President the other night that something - well - " She ran a hand through her hair and propped on her desk. "I told myself maybe it was just a - friendly little hug - you know? Just a thanks for working so hard on the tobacco thing - "  
  
Donna remained silent. There was nothing she could say, anyway.  
  
Finally, C.J. smiled ironically at her. "This is serious, isn't it, Donna?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"I mean, this is really serious?'  
  
She nodded again.  
  
"Like, how serious?"  
  
Donna bit her lip. "Serious."  
  
"I mean, has he - have you - " Her reddened cheeks betrayed what she was asking. "I know it's really not my business, Donna, but the press will ask what type of relationship you have, not that I'll tell them, but I need to know - "  
  
"C.J., we've slept together."  
  
The press secretary's jaw dropped.  
  
"Several times."  
  
It dropped farther.  
  
Might as well tell her everything. "C.J., we love each other."  
  
Now the reaction was not at all what she expected. She had expected disbelief, which, granted, she had gotten, but she had also expected an argument, a tirade over the publicity. Instead, her friend's face relaxed into a slight smile and she rose to take her hands.  
  
"Really?"  
  
Now Donna smiled, too. "Yeah."  
  
With a nod, C.J. said, "Okay."  
  
"Okay?"  
  
"Okay. We handle it."  
  
Donna knew that Jed had not talked with her, yet. Had not had the time or, truthfully, the desire to discuss their relationship with C.J. But it looked as if he wouldn't have much of a choice now.  
  
"Jed-"  
  
C.J. flinched, just like Margaret had, but this time Donna didn't change the name.  
  
"Jed will talk with you about this. We've already discussed it and I know you will figure out the best way to approach it. I trust you, C.J., and - thank you."  
  
"Thank you for what?"  
  
"For saying, 'Okay.'"  
  
That got her another smile and a quick hug. "All right. Let's go see the President."  
  
As Donna walked beside the press secretary, she took a deep breath and tried to steel herself for what lay ahead. She didn't know how the country would react to the idea that their President was romantically involved, not only with a younger woman, but with one of his own employees. It had the flavor of scandal, even though she knew there should be none. But she knew the press could find something to twist and she hoped she was prepared, for Jed's sake, as well as her own.  
  
That night, when Jed's even breathing told her he was asleep, she eased her head off his arm, slipped into the residence sitting room, curled onto the couch, and picked up the phone, punching in the familiar numbers once again. With a deep breath, she held the receiver to her ear.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hey, Mom. It's me. Listen, I've got something to tell you - " 


	2. Chapter Two

POV: Donna Spoilers: None Rating: R Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
Some Say - Chapter Two A West Wing Story  
  
by MAHC  
  
As she placed the half-gallon of skim milk and box of Special K on the faded linoleum check out counter, Donna's eyes fell to the candy rack, placed strategically, she realized, for the most enticing impulse buys. Glancing at her nutritious purchases, she shrugged and mentally justified the Pay Day bar that she flipped up beside them. The clerk glanced at her once, but didn't comment. She looked around, waiting for her total, aware of the customers hovering impatiently behind her.  
  
To the right was another impulse buy rack, this one stuffed with sensational tabloids proclaiming stories that only people who frequented the Quik Mart would fall for. Well.most people anyway. She chuckled as she learned from the headlines that Jesus Christ had recently been seen - on Mars. And a 30-pound baby was born to a woman in Alaska. Yikes! That had to hurt! But her laughter stopped abruptly at the words jumping from The Star: "Bartlet's Babe Revealed." Snatching the paper from the rack, she plopped it down to the irritated sigh of the clerk, who had apparently already rung up everything else.  
  
On her way home that day, she remembered that her only breakfast possibilities involved a dill pickle or leftover Chinese. Neither really appealed at six a.m., so she had decided to zip into a convenience store for something a little healthier. At least the Pay Day had peanuts. Now she scrambled out, anxious to see what the article revealed. Throwing the plastic bag onto her front seat, she ripped the paper out and read more carefully. Flipping past the Jesus and mega-baby stories, she found it, a subtitle proclaiming "Jed Bartlet's Long-Term Affair with Co-worker."  
  
What? The ridiculous article laid out an affair between the President and an unnamed staff member, claiming that they had carried on for years and were in bed even as Abbey Bartlet fell dead. Of all the stupid-  
  
Rage boiled behind her eyes. How dare they! She cursed loudly, drawing upon a word she rarely used, but one that gave verbal satisfaction, at least for a moment. Who would print such horrible lies? Who would read them? But more importantly, who would believe them?  
  
Someone would, she knew. There were always people who went to wrestling matches thinking it was all real, or fell for infomercials like they were news. Should they refute the accusation? Or simply not even acknowledge it? She wondered if C.J. had seen it. Knew Jed had not, especially since his days of zipping into the Quik Mart were over. Would he laugh about it? Maybe, but not the nasty detail accusing him of having sex with his mistress while his wife had a heart attack. No, he would not laugh about that part.  
  
Later, as she showered, preparing for a quiet dinner with him, she decided just to show it to C.J. and let her make the call. She closed her eyes as the warm water ran down her body, imagining his fingers doing the same, and that was all it took. She was charged and ready for him.  
  
Dinner was casual, no tuxedos tonight. To her delight, Jed wore jeans and an open collar shirt. She wore almost the same thing, except her shirt buttoned all the way down. Afterwards, they sat on the couch, his shoes kicked off and his legs propped on the low table in front of them. His arm stretched behind her and she leaned into him, her head on his chest. Slowly, she eased open the three buttons at his throat and gently rubbed the skin there.  
  
"Mmmm," he acknowledged, taking a sip of brandy and offering her some from the same glass. She let the smooth liquid roll over her tongue, mellow and sweet. Before she had quite swallowed all of it, he leaned in, his lips soft on hers, his mouth tasting of brandy. They shared the remaining liquid and the heat of it rushed down her throat.  
  
She anticipated that he would set down the glass and move over her, beginning their lovemaking for the night, but he just sat back, swirling the amber liquor.  
  
"A penny for your thoughts?" she asked.  
  
Surprise crossed his face. Then he smiled. "Do people say that anymore?"  
  
"Well, I do."  
  
His mood tonight was quiet, pensive. It didn't worry her exactly, but she wondered what thoughts flickered in that brilliant mind. Now he did set the glass on the table, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The sigh that escaped him sent a chill up her spine. It was not a relaxed sigh; it was a sigh that preceded some uncomfortable subject.  
  
"Donna," he said, gaze on his hands. "At my age and with my - condition - I can't afford to waste time."  
  
Okay. That seems logical. What do you-She gasped as he slid off the sofa, turning with one knee on the carpet. Oh God! His hands, warm and strong clasped hers. His eyes, cool and blue, held hers. Her heart pumped wildly.  
  
"Donna, I love you. I need you. And, God knows, I always want you."  
  
She blushed, but his words were an electric current straight to her erogenous zones. She wanted him, too.  
  
"Donna, I want - I want to marry you."  
  
Oh - my - God! From the surprise on his face, she realized she had said that out loud.  
  
He cocked his head. "Is that a yes or a no?"  
  
Focusing on long-abandoned yoga classes to calm her breathing, she reached out to touch his face, to trail her fingertips over his jaw, up his cheek, finally threading through his hair. Her answer was, at first, non-verbal, as her lips touched his, her hand slid behind his head to pull him closer, her tongue pushed into his mouth, still tasting the smooth brandy. When she pulled back, she made sure he saw the love in her eyes.  
  
Then she said quietly, "I love you, Jed Bartlet and I want to marry you and live with you and eat with you and - " Her gaze fell along with her hand to the bulge in his jeans. " - and right now I just want you."  
  
She saw the glistening in his eyes, but the tears didn't fall. Taking her hand, he urged her from the couch and they walked together to the large poster bed. Gently, he laid her on it, his hands removing her shirt, her jeans. He paused to admire the view, then slid her bra and panties away from her body. Then, he climbed up, fully clothed, between her legs. Oh! Her nerves jumped in anticipation. Now his lips touched her softly, his tongue ran like velvet through the swollen folds. He took his time, slowing when she began to whimper. Oh, this was incredible! Her hips arched upward, trying to rub harder against him, but he pulled back, smiling, before he eased down again.  
  
She was on fire, every nerve screaming, writhing. His fingers entered her and she felt herself going over. He knew what to do, flicking harder with his tongue and thrusting with his hand.  
  
"Jed!  
  
His name burst from her lips just as the pleasure burst between her legs, and she worried distantly that she moved against him too hard, but he didn't stop, not until long moments later when she gently pushed him away and allowed her shaking legs to relax.  
  
He grinned at her, looking young and mischievous, obviously pleased with himself. Well, he had a right to be, she decided. He certainly deserved a reward for all that hard work. Pushing him onto the bed, she eased the shirt over his head, dragging her fingers down his chest and stomach toward the straining jeans. Opening the fly, she pushed his pants and boxers down, allowing the erection to stand out boldly.  
  
She teased him as he had teased her, taking in just the head, licking around it. He arched off the bed, gasping, groaning. When she finally took him in deeper, his tortured moan rewarded her efforts, but she was not prepared for his strength to stop her and pull her on top of him.  
  
"Donna," he said, voice full and sensuous, "I want to come inside you. I want to see your face."  
  
She nodded, aroused again by his words and feel of him in her mouth. So she let him guide her, let him spread her legs, let him push into her inch by inch, until she ached for him to thrust. And then he did. Thrust in deeply and smoothly, letting himself pulse hard against her tight muscles. He pulled back, withdrawing almost completely, with only the tip still in. Another slow push in. Another pull almost out. She thought she would scream. She rotated her hips, trying to draw him in, trying to push the pace, but he was stubborn and made her wait. Finally, with a deep groan, he plunged in hard and deep, on and on, in and out, the pace pounding, and she was coming again, drawing him in.  
  
"Donna!" he cried, arching into her. She felt the hot pulses, the warmth that spread inside her. Oh what a feeling that was! A feeling of belonging, of intimacy, of love. A feeling of total satisfaction.  
  
He turned them and she lay on top of him for a long time, enjoying the masculine feel of his body beneath hers, wondering if they might wake later and start over. Those were usually the quiet, gentle times when their climaxes were so sweet and relaxing that it was almost like an afterthought. Maybe - she hoped, unaware when sleep overtook her.  
  
She woke, not to his midnight caresses, but to a knock on the door. Jed was already up, wrapping his robe around him. Donna blinked that he didn't bother to hide their obviously intimate connection from the visitor. She pulled up the covers as C.J. Cregg entered.  
  
If the press secretary was shocked at this situation, she didn't show it. "I'm sorry for the intrusion, Mister President."  
  
Jed nodded impatiently.  
  
She handed him a newspaper. "I think you should see this."  
  
Oh no! Rising a little, Donna asked, "Is that The Star?"  
  
Her eyes met those of her friend, and what she saw there took her breath. "No," came the reply. "It's the Washington Post." 


	3. Chapter Three

This is the last chapter in this story of the "As I Was Drifting Away" series. Thanks for reading.  
  
POV: Donna Spoilers: None Rating: PG Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I just enjoy borrowing them from time to time.  
  
Some Say - Chapter Three A West Wing Story  
  
by MAHC  
  
Donna Moss sat at her desk, the anxiety itching, crawling over her skin. She had not slept with him for two nights, had stayed at home, made excuses about work, about propriety. After C.J. had stunned them with the Washington Post story, she needed space, needed to think by herself without him near. The Star she had been ready for; the Post was a whole new ballgame. Thank goodness the article had not named her specifically; it mentioned only a senior staffer, which was close, but not completely accurate. Although more subtle than The Star, the more reputable paper still hinted at a long-term affair. Donna knew the administration could not ignore such a blatant accusation.  
  
So she waited. Waited to see what Jed, Leo, and C.J. decided. Waited for some signal that would let her determine her own actions, or reactions.  
  
But now she also waited for something else. Waited for a phone call. Margaret had helped, had gone for her just in case anyone was watching, had taken the sample. One more complication, one more horrible complication. And what would she do? She didn't know. She seriously didn't know.  
  
Sneaking up on her, albeit unintentionally, Margaret leaned into Donna's office and spoke, startling her friend.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Oh!" She tried to shake off the heavy burden from her shoulders, but figured Margaret saw through the feeble attempt.  
  
"Anything?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Okay. He needs to see you."  
  
She knew who he was, but asked anyway. "Who?"  
  
Margaret smiled, attempting to bring some levity to the situation. "Your boyfriend."  
  
"Margaret!"  
  
The taller woman shrugged. "Well, he is. It seems so weird saying 'the President wants you' and knowing there are many levels to that statement."  
  
Donna colored. "Margaret!"  
  
"Charlie asked me to find you and send you to the Oval Office."  
  
She bit her lip and couldn't suppress the surge of adrenaline that coursed through her body.  
  
"Donna, you okay? You really haven't heard?" Now her friend's face lost its teasing and fell into serious lines.  
  
"Yeah. No. I -" Suddenly, she wanted to let go, to tell someone what she had kept to herself for two days. Margaret knew just about all of it, anyway. "Margaret, he asked me-"  
  
She didn't have to finish. The other woman comprehended and gasped, clutching Donna's shoulders. "He asked?"  
  
She nodded, smiling now through welling tears.  
  
"He asked."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"When?"  
  
"When what?"  
  
"When did he ask?"  
  
"A couple of nights ago, before-" She blushed. "Well, a couple of nights ago."  
  
Margaret grinned at the embarrassment. "And you said?"  
  
"I said yes. But Margaret, what if-"  
  
Her friend shook her head. "Worry about that if and when." Then her mouth dropped and the fingers tightened around her shoulders. "Donna, do realize this means you'll be First Lady?"  
  
The revelation floored her. In an instant she knew that would certainly be true, but the thought brought a sick sensation to the pit of her stomach. The First Lady? And how could she be First Lady if-"  
  
"Oh, Margaret," she groaned. "The First Lady! I can't be the First Lady. The First Lady is - the First Lady is Abigail Bartlet."  
  
And even though she knew her friend supported her, had confidence in her, Margaret's eyes revealed the same feeling. How could she be expected to match the elegance, the confidence, the style of Abbey Bartlet? How could she be the First Lady of the United States? Especially if-  
  
At that moment, the phone rang, jerking her body toward it and her mind away from it. Maybe she should just not answer it. Maybe if she didn't she wouldn't have to deal with what might be waiting for her on the other end. Maybe-  
  
Margaret lifted the receiver, answered for her, then extended her hand. After a moment, Donna took it, identifying herself and listening to the information, hearing the words she knew she would hear, trying to absorb their significance. She heard herself responding, acknowledging. Then the phone was somehow back on the cradle.  
  
And just like that her world turned upside down. She sat, stunned, heartsick. Oh, God. What should she do? What could she do?  
  
Margaret watched her quietly, not asking, not needing to ask. It was written all over her. Finally, her friend touched her shoulder, waiting for a long moment before reminding her, "He needs to see you."  
  
With effort, Donna pulled away from spider's lair in which she had become entwined and took a deep breath. Throwing a final glance at her friend, she headed toward the Oval Office, suddenly and completely uncertain.  
  
Jed Bartlet paced. Not that that was unusual. He frequently paced for various reasons. When he was worried. When he was stressed. When he was impatient. When he was thinking. Now, it was entirely possible that he paced for all of those reasons. And all Donna could do was watch. She couldn't step in front of him to break the movement. Couldn't touch his hand to draw his attention. Couldn't make him sit on the couch so she could knead the tension from his tight shoulders. Couldn't run her hands over his chest to distract him toward other activities.  
  
She wanted to. She wanted to talk with him alone. Wanted to go away somewhere with him and never come back. Wanted to - But she couldn't do any of these things because he paced in the Oval Office. He paced in a room full of staff members. So she sat and watched him pace and wished she could help.  
  
But then, he didn't really need her help. After all, she was the problem, wasn't she? And now even more than he could have imagined. The it suddenly occurred to her that she could help. But what a price it would be. She wasn't sure at all if she could actually do it, or survive it if she did.  
  
"Mister President," C.J. offered, apparently trying to stop the monotonous movement herself.  
  
It worked, at least momentarily. He stopped and looked at her expectantly.  
  
"We could just let it go. Ignore it. Treat it as a non-story."  
  
Leo shook his head. "It's a story. Once the Post ran it, it was a story. Maybe not before, but now-"  
  
Before anyone could offer another opinion, Josh bounded in, infusing the room with his energy. At that moment, even Toby's sour countenance seemed to lighten minutely. Jed looked up, eyes amused, despite the worry.  
  
"Never fear," the deputy chief of staff announced, arms wide, head thrown back. "We're on this, Mister President. This absurd rumor is history. Or at least it will be after Joshua Lyman puts it to bed-" He stopped abruptly, realizing his regrettable choice of words. "-so to speak."  
  
"Josh-"  
  
"No, C.J. This whole thing is so ridiculous. I mean, you dealt with this in the pressroom, told them there's nothing to it. Then the Post reports that the President-" Here he nodded in deference to his Chief Executive, his eyes apologetic. "-the President is involved with a staff member and possibly was having an affair before-" Again, he grimaced and couldn't finish.  
  
But the President understood. He sighed, running a hand through his hair so that when it fell back, it scattered over his forehead. "Okay. Let's just clear the air with this now."  
  
Donna started. What? What did he mean, 'let's just clear the air?' No! She had to talk with him first.  
  
Rushing to assure the President, Josh began, "Sir, just let me say that surely you know we don't believe any of this. It's crazy! I mean we know how devoted you were to - I mean, we'd never believe that - Well, you don't have to defend yourself to us, Mister President."  
  
The smile on Jed's face was ironic. "Thank you, Josh," he acknowledged, but Donna saw his mouth tighten. "Of course, behind every rumor there is almost always a thread of truth."  
  
Toby, who had been visibly detached from the conversation, now cut his eyes toward the President in interest. Donna heard the alarms ringing behind the carefully smooth façade.  
  
"Sir?" he asked simply, but the question searched for much more, and Jed knew it.  
  
Steeling himself, the President said, "Just so you'll know, I never cheated on Abbey in almost thirty-five years of marriage. I could never have done that."  
  
They sat quietly, none of them doubting this certainty.  
  
"She would have killed me," he noted.  
  
Now the smile crept onto his lips and Donna saw similar flicks of amusement mirrored on the faces of the staff. Leo especially seemed to connect with this comment and Donna figured it was not too far from the truth.  
  
"Anyway," Jed continued, pacing a little again, despite C.J.'s earlier success. "There is absolutely no truth to that particular part of the rumor. However-"  
  
At his pause, the room froze. Four people in there now knew what he was going to say. Two people did not. She saw Josh look toward her. If he wondered what she was doing in there, he didn't ask.  
  
"In the past few months, I have grown close to someone. And yes, the Post is correct in identifying that someone as a White House staffer."  
  
C.J. pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Leo glued his eyes to the floor. Toby stroked his beard. Josh sat, mouth dropping open.  
  
Jed gave them a moment to absorb that before he spoke again. "I must tell you, without getting too corny, that this person has become quite special to me."  
  
Tears shone in Donna's eyes and she tried to wipe them away without drawing attention to herself. But C.J. saw, and Leo. Please stop, she pleaded silently. Please wait. Let me talk with you. Jed still had not looked at her, had turned his back to them and peered out the large window behind his desk. Toby and Josh sat, backs straight, jaws tight, waiting.  
  
"In fact," he added, still facing outside, "I love her very much."  
  
Oh, God. She had to hold together. Had to do what was necessary. But how? Now, he turned and made a bold step toward her, extending a hand, palm up, for her to take. After only a brief hesitation, during which she contemplated the agony of what she was about to do, she took it, looking into his eyes for the first time since they had come into the room. In those eyes, she saw the love he had professed, heard the whispers of passion he had expressed, felt the tingle of his hands on her body, all over her body. It tore her apart.  
  
"What do you think?" he asked softly, ignoring the shocked, open-mouthed stares from the rest of the room.  
  
She felt sick, literally sick. Taking deep breaths, she tried to speak, found herself stuttering and stopped before she fell completely apart. "I - I - " She turned to face the flabbergasted group. "Could - could we have a minute?"  
  
No one moved. Not a person budged, but she knew it wasn't because they refused to. They simply were too stunned to comprehend her request, except for C.J. and Leo. Now Jed realized something was wrong, because his voice broke through to them.  
  
"I need the room, please."  
  
Josh and Toby snapped back, rising and nodding, still in confusion, but at least coherent enough to move. Leo caught her eye and she had to pull away, couldn't contemplate the fear and accusation she saw there. Maybe he suspected. Maybe he could read her body language and knew something had happened. Something that wasn't good. His words returned to her. "I won't stand by and see him used." No, she wasn't doing that. Just the opposite. She was sacrificing for him, for the country. Breaking her own heart doing it.  
  
C.J. threw a sympathetic glance her way. When the room cleared and the door shut behind the last person, Jed touched her chin, drew her face around to meet his. "Donna, what is it? What's wrong?"  
  
How could she tell him? His eyes betrayed a wariness, a fear, even, in anticipation of her words. But she had to, for his sake, for the country's sake. It would be terrible for him if she didn't. And she couldn't see him hurt, see him suffer again. How could she not have considered the possibility, the magnitude?  
  
"Jed," she began, pulling his hand away, trying to distance herself from the heat of his touch, the electricity of his closeness. "Jed, I - I - can't do this. I can't-"  
  
Now his eyes narrowed, his body tensed, and he leaned toward her. "You can't do what?"  
  
"I can't - we can't - Jed, it just won't work." She couldn't tell him, couldn't see his disappointment in her, his suspicion. Blindly, she grasped at a reason, at some logical escape. "Do you realize I'll be First Lady? What an absurd notion. We didn't think about that. Didn't consider what that impact would be. My God, Jed, can you imagine me as First Lady?" She was shaking now with the emotion, trembling at the horrible comprehension in his eyes.  
  
"What - what are you saying, Donna?" His tone clearly said he didn't really want to hear her answer.  
  
"I'm saying - I'm saying we can't do this. We can't be together. We can't - marry. We just can't, Jed. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."  
  
Tears gushed down her cheeks at the devastation that fell across his face.  
  
"Donna-" he choked, eyes shining, hands reaching for her.  
  
"I - I can't! I can't let them - I can't live up to - you deserve - you deserve - Abbey."  
  
His fingers fell away as she stepped back. "I don't have Abbey. Donna, I need - I need you! Don't you know that?" His eyes had darkened, grayed with despair. "This doesn't make sense. There must be something else. What else? What else is wrong?"  
  
He knew her. Knew her well enough to tell. The truth bubbled in her throat, pushed toward her mouth, but she clamped down, forced it back. Heart breaking, she shook her head and pulled away, and it was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life.  
  
"Please," she gasped, then turned and fled through the doors, past Charlie, hating herself for being so stupid, hating Jed for loving her and making her feel so wonderful, hating the world for making it so complicated, so hard. She heard him call her name, but didn't stop, couldn't stop.  
  
Somehow she made it home. Somehow she fumbled with the lock, with the doorknob. Somehow she stumbled to her bed and collapsed onto it, sobs wracking her body until she found herself crumpled on the bathroom floor vomiting into the toilet.  
  
She had to do it. For the country, for him. It was the only way. It was all she could have done.  
  
But, oh, what had she done? 


End file.
